Reverse
by mrsichigodarcy
Summary: "Within each of us there is a war between two wolves, Good and Evil. The one that wins the war, is the one that we feed." Warnings: Yaoi, mild supernatural gore and violence, scenes of sexual nature, mild to extreme cursing at times. Rated M to be safe. WORK IN PROGRESS.
1. A Monster Unleashed

**CHAPTER ONE - **_A Monster Unleashed_

* * *

Inside every child's mind there is an imagination. And it is within this very imagination that we find the most beautiful and most horrific things that life has to offer. There are monsters under our beds and in our closets. They howl at the moon and they bare their fangs in our dreams. Above the clouds is our guardian angel, watching over us. At the north pole, Santa grants our every wish. On Easter, a bunny lays eggs.

But it's not until we become adults that we're told that this ''imagination'', these very core instincts that every child has, is false. That our fear of the monsters after dark, of the boogie monster under the bed, it's all just ''in our head''. That none of it's real, and we should go about our lives pretending that we never really_ believed _in that stuff anyway. We should go on with our lives every day laughing, shaking our heads at what we once believed. Go about being _normal_. Ignore the chill that runs down your spine on a full moon.

Just get over it.

And in reality, most of us, that's exactly what we do. For some of us it's a lot harder to forget those childhood memories, however distant they become. In particular, it's hard for _us_. For the ones like me.

The monsters.

* * *

Friday night, 28th of December, just a few days after Christmas holidays and a few days before New Years. It's this time that most college students are enjoying their winter break and drinking all night long, right? Because they won't be wasted enough on New Years.

Who'd have thought that on a Friday night at such a key point of the year I'd be standing outside in the freezing cold in the middle of the woods with no pants on.

I reluctantly sit down in the frosted grass beneath me, shuddering from the cold. My every nerve is on fire as I sit, and I wait, my clothes and personal belongings tied up in a tree not far from here.

The full moon glows forebodingly overhead. I glance up at it shortly and feel a sudden tension in my every muscle.

The change begins.

My first response, as always, is insane panic. _No, no, no, _my brain wails helplessly. I dig my fingers into the ground as if to secure myself there. In the dark recesses of my subconscious there's a sickening growl.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise and begin to lengthen, my gums sting as hidden fangs force their way out. My skin begins to burn like every bit of me is being lit on fire as I'm stretched. My spine screams as it's lurched at an unnatural angle.

As always, I'm not sure when I fell to all fours on to the ground screaming in pain, but here I am, my screams turning into guttural roars, and then to growls as I writhe back and forth in agony.

My nails have lengthened and hardened into long, sharp claws, harder and tougher than steel. All over my body my soft human hair has been replaced by rough, wiry fur of a dark black color. My whole being has changed. My back legs are longer, my human arms turned to front legs, claws on every limb and large fang-like canines. A tail's sprouted out my back.

Within me, the weakness of humanity, that voice shouting "no" fades away. It is shut out, just as this beast within is shut out all twenty-nine other days of the month.

This is the beast's time, not mine. He feels his paws, my paws, against the hard ground. The pain, the fear within him that is not his own, it snakes into a hole in the back of his mind.

I lift my now dog-like snout into the air, my senses alive and tingling. My night vision is vibrant and sharp, the cold wind has no bitter sting and has no impact through my thick fur. I open my jaws to taste the wind, and I lift my eyes to the full moon.

Arching my spine, throwing my head back and screwing my eyes closed I let out the low, melodic howl of a lonely wolf.

* * *

The next morning I wake up naked, covered in a combination of blood, feces and leaves in some other, unfamiliar part of the woods.

I am alone.

Truly, alone. The wolf had gone back into hibernation for the next several weeks. He had left me and my human body and mind in tact - pretty much.

I scrape a bit of dried blood and vomit off the corner of my lip. My stomach churns, and turning to the side I begin to hurl up unmentionable objects.

Probably some wolf feces and some part of a squirrel. He had a habit of eating his own excrements. My human stomach didn't approve of this habit I'm afraid, not even a little bit. Disgusted, I lurch uneasily away from the pile of sick I'd left and begin looking for my belongings, praying all the while I don't run into anyone out for a morning hike.

My normally vibrant orange (I'm a strawberry blonde, not a red-head, thanks for asking) hair is covered and caked in some combination of mud and shit. I don't know what I look like per se but I imagine I'm not a pretty sight. I rub at a bruise on my left arm and sigh, swallowing thickly.

Memories of last night - the wolf's memories - flash behind my eyelids but I do my best to ignore them. I find the tree I hung my bag in and I undo the knot around a heavy rock I'd used as a weight. Attached to the other end of the rope, with nothing left to strain against it, my backpack of objects comes flying down to earth with a thud. I grab my backpack and throw on an old T-shirt and some sweatpants. As I put on my shoes I note a trail of blood leading west.

In the back of my mind memories of tracking a deer and dragging it back here begin to bubble to the surface.

_No. It's over. The night's over. And it's over until another twenty-nine days go by._

And if you ask absolutely anyone, including myself within the next twenty-nine days?

I am human. Through and through. And no, I don't believe in monsters.

I take a sip of water from my backpack and begin my trek back home. I have work tomorrow. Pulling out my phone, I have seven unread texts and one missed call.

* * *

**Reviews? Thoughts? Suggestions? Gimme something.**

_To any previous fans of my writing, I have a few things to say. Sorry I disappeared. Life has been out of whack. No, my old stories will not be being reposted as I did not save them anywhere and I deleted them all in a fit of rage. I love you all and hope you haven't all forgotten me, you're what inspired me to write before and what spurned me to write again. Best wishes, mrsichigodarcy._


	2. And Then There Were Two

**CHAPTER TWO - **_And Then There Were Two_

* * *

"So yesterday I started with some Freudian theories near the end of the lecture and I'd like to continue on that note today with..."

I scramble around in my backpack for my notes from yesterday. Freud may not be my favorite psychologist ever to have lived - probably because we have as much proof of his theories as we do of flying pigs - but as my psychology course meant a lot to me, and Freud was always, always on the midterm of an introduction to psychology course, I take notes to be safe.

To be honest the lecture wasn't as fun as some others I'd had. I spent most of the time mindlessly writing down whatever key points he said or whatever he showed on a slide. A couple of times I checked for "Freudian slips" as he liked to call them, checking to see if I put "wolf" anywhere in my notes, but as it seemed I either had no repressed thoughts or Freudian slips just weren't that common.

I looked around the room for a new face, a new anything.

For the most part there was nothing exciting. Heavily tattooed red-head with the pony tail, check. Cute black-haired guy at the front, check. To my left Shinji, the most annoying thing I'm pretty sure had ever been, and to my right Orihime, who I'm positive took the course just to flush and stare and mumble at me and ask to borrow my notes and study with me late at night.

I'd originally taken this course because the human mind fascinated me. That was a year ago, when I was still human. Now? I'm not really sure.

Do werewolves even have a use for human psychology? I understand it just the same, I guess, but I don't feel it relates quite the same way.

Sure, a nervous, short-tempered person who killed his best friend, ran away from his family and home without telling them where he would be or how to find him again _might_ have a severe case of schizophrenia or sociopathic personality disorder.

Or they might be a werewolf.

I startled as everyone around me suddenly began collecting their things and shuffling toward the exit.

Class must be over. I dropped my half-finished notes on Freud into my backpack and snatched up the bag without zipping it closed.

Predictably, everything within it came tumbling out.

I groaned under my breath and people began stepping around me in their haste to be out of there. Shinji said something about seeing me at home - we share a dorm, forgot to mention that - in a weird tone, but he's always weird, and headed out the door.

I jumped out of my skin when a hand reached down and someone crouched beside me and began helping me put the things away.

I looked up into this unfamiliar face.

He wore a black hoody over his oddly colored hair, but I could see the beginnings of electric blue locks that nearly matched the color of his blue eyes.

All right, that's something new.

He half-smiled at me. "Grimmjow?" he said it like a question.

I stared at him blankly.

"We were introduced this morning, you told me how to get to class," he reminded me.

I stared at him _more_ blankly. No recollection of this resurfaced whatsoever. And how could I have forgotten someone with a more ridiculous look than Renji?

He placed my water bottle into my bag and pushed it towards me, pulling himself up to his full height.

I awkwardly grabbed my bag and stood up, staring at him as if I could force the memory to surface.

He shrugged and his half-grin fell and he began to leave, offering a half wave as he did.

"Wait!" I called, a scowl forming on my lips as I jogged after him. He arched both eyebrows and offered me a half turn in my direction, not saying anything and not stopping, either.

"I'm sorry," I said shortly, not sounding sorry at all, "but are you sure we've met?"

He laughed, it was a really deep, smooth sound. He didn't sound amused though. In fact, in contrast to his original attitude towards me which had seemed eager and pleasant, he now seemed to be trying to escape me in any way possible.

"Maybe not," he said off-handedly. "See you 'round, Ichigo."

All right, so he knew my name, and I don't think I'd given him my name in our most recent conversation _or_ in this earlier meeting he adamantly claimed had happened. A stalker, maybe?

Staring stupidly after him even after he turned down the hall and presumably out the building, I shook myself.

Why did I care so much, anyway? He was weird, and yeah, maybe he was attractive, I guess I hadn't paid much attention to that. I suppose, in hindsight, if you looked past the blue hair he did have a nice face. Maybe he was hitting on me?

Oh.

Well now I felt like an idiot.

I flushed with embarrassment and tried not to stomp my way out of the building and on to the grounds like an angry child. When's the last time I'd gotten laid, anyway? _Smooth, Ichigo, smooth. Stare at him slack-jawed half the time he talks to you and scowl at him the other half._

I intended to skip the rest of my classes and just get the notes from Orihime tomorrow since she took all the same classes, anyway. I'd text her and ask her what the assigned material was, too. She never missed a class in hopes that I'd show up to one of them and she could spend the whole time gaping at me.

I'd told her I was gay but that word didn't seem to mean much to her. Maybe she didn't know what it meant?

I began my walk back to my shared dorm in relative mental silence. For some reason, I was exhausted.

* * *

I got back and Shinji was waiting at the door eagerly like a puppy. "So?" he chirped inquisitively as I squeezed in the door and threw my bag haphazardly to the side. I walked over to the couch and promptly face-planted into it, exhaling heavily.

Something prodded my back.

"Ichigo, tell me you at least talked to him!"

I roll over on to my back and stare up at my blonde dorm-mate. "Who?" I feigned ignorance, arching both eyebrows quizzically.

He rolled his eyes. "You're pathetic, you're never going to get laid at this rate. An at least four and a half star guy stops after class to help you pick up your things and you can't even get his number, can you?"

I pause. Four and a half star? That was a pretty high rating from Shinji, who had a firm belief that to be a five-star you had to be a God and that a four star was really the best you could ever hope for. The first four were about looks but the last one was about having magical powers or something, I'm pretty sure.

He huffed impatiently. "Whatever, you're pathetic. Your adorable good looks are wasted in that bottomless pit you call a personality."

I shrug noncommitally and sigh, grabbing the remote off the arm rest and pointing it lazily in the direction of the TV. I thus begin channel surfing. I find it more entertaining than watching one show at once, you see, because this way I feel like I get to watch a lot of shows and movies at the same time.

Shinji groans. "I hate when you do that," he snaps. "Oh, wanna get sushi?" he asks as an after thought, knocking my legs off the couch and plopping down next to me with the sushi place's menu.

He'd stolen it last time we ate there saying it'd be useful next time we ordered delivery. I guess he wasn't wrong. Sometimes I think he just made up excuses for his kleptomania, though.

I sit up reluctantly and quit my channel surfing, leaving it on some random kid show to intentionally set Shinji off. He hates kids, and everything to do with kids, therefore I do this often. I like to turn it on in the mornings on weekends before I leave for work so he wakes up to the sound of Yo Gabba Gabba.

He shoots me a dirty look and grabs the remote, turning off the TV and shoving the extra menu I wasn't aware he had stolen into my hands.

I give him a curious glance.

"So we both have one," he says, as if that explain it all.

I guess that makes sense.

I pick the shrimp tempura roll which he says is a sad excuse for sushi but who cares what he thinks. Fried shrimp is delicious. My stomach is still a little upset from the wolf's rampage and I don't feel like any raw fish at the moment.

Shinji picks a california roll which I've told him many times isn't real sushi, but he doesn't care. He's a vegetarian, see. So he tells himself it's real sushi.

I make him call it in and when he gets up to grab the phone I sprawl out across the couch, claiming it for my own once more. I roll over on to my stomach and close my eyes, making a pillow out of my arms.

_So tired. Don't know how long it's been since I've been this tired._

I must have dozed off or something because I'm awakened by a sharp "Where did you get that?"

I yawn and blink several times, staring up at him. "Huh?" I say intelligently through another yawn.

He grabs my right arm by the wrist, knocking me off-balance as I was putting my weight on my elbows, and gestures to a large, purple-ish bruise near my shoulder.

I flush in embarrassment and jerk away, averting eye contact. "Doesn't matter, it's nothing, I tripped," I mumble, sort of all at once so it sounds more like "matterthingped".

He frowns at me. "Ichigo I wish you'd have come out with us last night," he says in an unusually soft tone.

I shrug my shoulders and he prods me in the rib cage just to piss me off. "Sushi will be here in twenty minutes, you get the door," he says, dashing away before I can kill him.

* * *

**Reviews? Thoughts? Suggestions? Longer than last chapter. (:**

_Uhh, changing from present tense to past tense... Oops? Sorry guys, the transition is really weird. I need a beta. Anyone who betas wanna leave the offer in a review? I'm sticking with past tense by the way. It sounds nicer. I don't really know how I got started with present tense in the first place. __Alsooo. You get an idea of Ichigo's personality, of his roommate Shinji, and Grimmjow was (though horribly briefly) introduced. Nothing super exciting but hey we're trying to get things started here. Oh, and I forgot to do a disclaimer last time._

**DISCLAIMER for the entire story**: I do not own Being Human in any way shape or form as the storyline is very loosely based off of, and I mean very very loosely. I also do not own any bit of Bleach, I'm just sort of borrowing the characters. This is entirely nonprofit and basically garb from my imagination.


	3. I Keep Having Dreams I'm Falling

**CHAPTER THREE - **_I Keep Having Dreams I'm Falling, Until I Realize I'm Awake_

* * *

Later that night after sushi I holed myself up in my room away from Shinji. He tries to hide it but I know he worries about those nights I disappear and come back battered and exhausted.

On the news there had been a couple reports of deer caucuses found and some people claimed to have heard wolves howling late at night. They're wondering if a pack has invaded New York and if so how they will be safely transported back to a nature preserve. There have been no reports of attacks on people yet and no sightings of the wolves.

Wolf excrements have been found and they're being brought in for testing, or something.

I laughed to myself. _Wonder what kind of freaky shit they'll find in that shit._

I pulled my laptop out from under my twin bed and sprawled across it on my stomach with my laptop in front of me. I started it up and opened Firefox.

"Werewolf myths" I typed into google.

I scrolled down past the usual garb. "Are werewolves real", blah blah blah, fiction stories about werewolves, the Wikipedia page on werewolves.. "man wolf"... "Did you mean where wolf?"...

I opened up the Barnes and Noble website. _Maybe I can just find a book on this crap._

Mythology, Greek God Mythology, Werewolf Mythology.

I clicked on the last one, humming to myself. Pretty basic title, I guess.

Shit reviews, boring first few pages, textbook like writing. I won't be able to force myself to read that.

I went back and kept scrolling down the list of various mythology books.

Monster Myths.

_Well that's something new, I guess._

I clicked on it.

I read the first few available tester pages. It didn't seem too terrible. The writing wasn't textbook style but it wasn't "I wrote this so we could all laugh at myths" either. The guy seemed like he _knew_, if that made any sense at all.

_Hell, maybe he is one of us._

I googled and searched around for snippets on his take on werewolves.

_...and the mythology behind werewolves is vast and varying from culture to culture. Some societies praising the beasts as gods, others wishing to purge the disease from the earth. Some say it is that, a disease. The infectious nature of the werewolf's virus is akin to that of a bacteria or virus. Those in churches treat it as an infection of the soul._

_A man's soul melded with an ill wolf's, to save the wolf's life and to teach the man a lesson. That would explain the erratic, senseless, confused, unhinged behaviorism of a werewolf and its inability to actually work in a pack like a healthy wolf. The werewolf is a misanthrope, the man scared to unleash it in fear that it will hurt all those he loves, and the wolf merely afraid of everything, wondering why it is he is tied to life, using this man as a threshold, when his mind left him long ago_.

I scanned my eyes across the page quickly, exhaling.

Maybe this is what I've been looking for.

I went back to the Barnes and Noble page and ordered the book.

_If this guy is the real deal, maybe he has some idea about other monsters, too? If werewolves weren't the only things in this world, maybe I'm not the freakiest thing there ever was._

* * *

Running.

_Wherever I was, lost in some woods or something, I was running. Faster, faster, faster my legs pushed beneath me. My breath came in short pants and sweat was cool all over my body. The full moon glowed overhead._

_I smelled everything. Heard everything. Tasted everything._

_Deer, a deer, something to pursue. Hunting._

_Hunting, I was hunting._

_I quickly began gaining on the herbivore, my claws digging into the hard earth beneath me like it were soft mud. I push-off and in a final leap, land on the deer's back, taking it down to the ground hard with me._

_I sink my fang-like teeth into its neck, ripping through the skin like it's warm butter. I pull off a chunk of flesh, but there isn't much meat in the neck, just a flush of blood that soaks my muzzle._

_I move to the rump, pulling off a thick piece of muscle, and begin to eat._

_My vision blurs, something happens, suddenly I'm running again._

_But this time I'm human again. I'm running away, my heart pounds frantically in fear. I'm less graceful than before, I'm blind in the dark and I hear nothing pursuing me._

_Then I hear a howl. But the howl isn't what frightens me, nor do the eyes I see in every corner of the darkness._

_Something, something unknown, a sickly sweet scent, a flash of color._

What am I running from?

_A sharp pain in my neck, a flash of red, a burning that spreads from my neck into every limb. I'm on fire, burning from the inside out, and my muscles are paralyzed._

Blackness.

* * *

I'm not sure when I fell asleep that night but I woke up with a little drool smeared on my cheek and my head against my keyboard, the light on the screen having gone out long ago.

I really have to pee.

I pulled myself up into a sitting position, my neck cracking and my spine popping as I did. I stretched, yawning and rubbing one hand at my eyes. I dug out some eye crust on my way to the bathroom. I twisted and pushed on the doorknob.

Locked.

"Shinji!" I yelled, glaring at the door in front of me.

"Getting ready!" he shouted in response. "Go back to sleep for an hour!"

I groaned audibly and laid my head against the door, kicking it once and mumbling curses. I decided to go out to Starbucks and piss there, getting myself a drink and nothing for him for revenge.

Throwing on an old football sweatshirt and some black shoes I headed out the door with a scowl.

Nobody really approached me in the mornings before I shower and for that I'm kind of glad. Maybe it's the "fuck off" I have stamped across my forehead, or the stained sweatpants and old sweatshirt, but it's like I have people-deterrant on.

The walk to the Starbucks isn't far. I guess that makes sense. Keep a nice little expensive coffee shop near campus and you're an instant billionaire.

It's always noisy in Manhattan. People chattering on cellphones in varying languages, the occasional car horn, people talking, high-heels clicking, children crying.

You don't really get used to it, to be honest.

As I walked into the Starbucks and got in line I stared at the pastries for a few minutes in oblivious mental silence. This was how a couple of the days after the change were, I guess. The wolf wasn't in control but I wasn't either. Just sort of a middle point where my brain is still trying to gather its control again.

Leaves me sleepy.

A flash of blue in the corner of my eye caught my attention and I turned around, eyes lighting upon a familiar face. "Hey," I said without thinking.

Grimm... Grim... Gr.. whatever. That guy from psych class, looked up from his watch. He doesn't wear a hoody now, just a button up, collared shirt that's rolled up around halfway to reveal nicely toned, muscular forearms.

I really looked at him this time. He had nicely sculpted facial features, like a model. Broad shoulders, and very striking eyes. The blue hair is at first disorienting but after you get used to it, I guess I couldn't really imagine it any other color. Who am I to judge, anyway? My hair's orange.

He looked busy, and he was dressed pretty formally for a trip to Starbucks. He was tall, too, I realized. Really tall. Must be what earned him the four and a half stars on the Shinji rating. He liked tall guys.

Didn't make any sense, really. Shinji's a midget.

"Hi," he responded, snapping me out of my train of thought. I half-shrugged and turned away, back to facing the front of the line. Presumably, he got in line behind me. I wouldn't know. I made it my goal not to look back again.

I ordered myself a milkshake thing. Frappucinos, or whatever. They're milkshakes, everyone knows that.

I liked the chocolate ones with the chocolate chips. No, it's not an obsession, it's a healthy addiction.

I headed to the outdoor sitting area and shiver as a cold breeze blows. I sat myself down in the farthest corner seat, the only empty table.

I tried not to look up as a familiar blue-haired nuisance seemed to follow me outside and looked around idly for a seat.

_Please don't please don't please don't,_ I thought to myself as it began to seem like he was moving towards me.

"Mind if I sit here?"

_Nooooo..._

"That's fine," I said, gesturing to the seat across from me.

"Do you have any interest in Freud's theories?" he asked me casually, sitting back and sipping on whatever warm drink he'd chosen.

Probably kind of smart. In hindsight, getting a cold drink, not bringing a winter jacket and sitting outside alone and drinking it on a cold winter day made for a very chilly way to start the day. Haha. I rhymed.

"To be honest I think he's an idiot," I said bluntly.

He laughed, a grin transforming his features. I looked up a little, raising my eyes to meet his for just a moment before glancing away.

Normally I didn't have anything against eye contact while speaking. He had a really piercing, evil look about him though. Something that made me feel... hunted.

A jolt ran up my spine at that thought. I frowned in confusion, trying to shake the feeling off.

"Do you?" I asked him, lifting up my chin a little and trying to muster a neutral, less disoriented expression. I met his gaze head on for a moment and he seemed, for some reason, surprised.

Maybe I looked hostile.

Oops.

"In a way," he replied casually. "I think there's something in there, definitely some very valid points about the subconscious, but he takes it all a little too far and maybe gives it more importance than it deserves."

I nodded. "So is this your first psychology course you've ever taken?"

"Yes, hence taking an introduction course, but I've always had some interest in the field. And you?"

"No," I replied.

He arched both eyebrows and looked like he was waiting for something.

I took a drink of my milkshake.

He paused for a moment before also taking a sip of his drink and looking to the road.

Oh.

He wanted me to elaborate.

"Um," I said smartly, "I went to uh, a university in Connecticut for a while until I moved away, I had some stuff going on and uh, moved here. Got accepted into NYU and thinking of majoring in psychology."

He nodded. "University of Connecticut?" he asked, sounding impressed.

"No, Yale," I said as nonchalantly as I could.

He raised both eyebrows in surprise and, giving a bemused expression, nodded, looking down at his coffee cup.

"So why move here?" he asked after a moment.

I shrugged.

He smiled as if something had amused him, and then he stood. "Well, it was nice talking to you Ichigo. We should have coffee again some time, maybe go over notes together when it's not about the idiot Freud," he said.

I looked up in confusion. "Um, yeah," I replied. He turned to leave.

"Wait," I said, jumping to my feet. He paused, turning around and facing me again. "I still don't remember meeting you and telling you how to get to class," I said, scowling a little as I tried even harder to force the memory to appear.

He nodded, "You're right," he said, "I suppose we didn't."

I watched him leave feeling, if possible, less satisfied with that response than I had been with none.

* * *

**Reviews? Thoughts? Suggestions? Leave a comment just to let me know you're reading!**

_I think we're getting somewhere, now. :) Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites so far, guys._


	4. Nothing Makes No More Sense

**CHAPTER FOUR - **_Nothing Makes No More Sense Than it Never Did_

* * *

I made sure to go to the bathroom before leaving because after the milkshake the drive to piss was increased dramatically.

The rest of the week was some sort of blur. I didn't see sir-blue-hair-really-need-to-learn-his-name at any of the following psych classes. I kept waking up feeling like I'd had a weird dream, but it was swept away before I could grasp it. But on the bright side, my book came today.

I worked in an old book store part-time now. I'd been going through the myth books in there and some of them weren't half-bad either. It was harder to find stuff on werewolves than it was vampires and whatnot but there was still some of the things I was looking for.

I'd done some more research on the effects of a full moon and what it could be triggering inside me to cause such a drastic physical change. As magical as it seems there has to be some scientific explanation right? Something I can stop it with.

At least that's the hope I clung to.

I'd also been starting to get my life on track. I think I'm going to major in psychology and become a professor. I'd always had an interest in teaching and psychology was an amazing subject.

Midterms were coming up soon and I'd been pretty much drowned in studying. Shinji had a new boyfriend, uhh Nnoitra or something. Creepy tall guy.

Basically, life goes on.

I guess I sometimes wondered about the blue-haired weirdo. I hope he's not dead in the bottom of a river somewhere. _I wonder if he did like me?_ Was he even gay? I guess that never occurred to me. Maybe he's straight and married and hell - maybe he has kids.

_What do I know about him other than that he's in a psychology class?_

I don't even know his name.

"Ichigo, you've got a package!"

I threw myself out the bedroom door and tore the brown package from Shinji without a word. I went into the kitchen and started slicing up the box. Nobody had time for actually getting that stuff to open normally.

"Geez, what's in there, drugs?" Shinji grumbled, following me into the kitchen.

I flipped him the bird idly and pulled out my book, throwing the sliced up box pieces in his general direction.

"The hell happened to you, nerd, you're acting like a book about monsters that's probably for schizophrenics and ten year olds is as good as sex."

I scowled. "Thank you for reminding me, yet again, that I haven't slept with anyone in almost two years. Leave me alone now?"

He threw his hands up in the air and headed towards the door, his keys jingling between two fingers. "Me and Nnoi are going out, catch you later dork."

I nodded absent-mindedly.

I sat on the stool in the kitchen and opened it up, skimming around at first and grinning madly.

Setting the book down very carefully, I pulled open the pantry and started making some microwaveable popcorn.

Now I had something to do all night instead of mope around about some stranger I'd only met a little over a week ago.

For a second I paused, looking over at the book with a sort of pit in my stomach.

Maybe Shinji was right.

I should get laid.

* * *

_Blood._

_In everyone and everything, there is some sort of blood lust._

_In people, a lust for the death of those they hate._

_Animals, the meat of their prey._

_And on a similar vein of the former, vampires, and their lust for real, physical blood._

_"My fangs are sunk into his carotid artery and he's gasping. His muscles are just starting to stiffen up and paralyze from the venom. My eyes are closed. I don't want to see his face as the life drains away._

_No one really sits on this subject for very long on vampires. The fact that we used to be human._

_The fact that in our mind, we still are human, and we're ruthless killers, with little control._

_We deserve to be punished._

_We're cursed and yet it's not enough. We still have self control, don't we? We don't need to feed. We could go a thousand years without feeding, and still exist._

_The horrid fact is that we want to feed. We thrive on it. We don't depend on it, we don't depend on anything really. We're animated corpses. We can survive without breathing, without a heartbeat, without taking in or letting out any sort of substance whatsoever indefinitely. We're ice-cold and devoid of life._

_We choose to blink. We choose to breathe. We choose to move. We choose to speak. We choose to feed._

_And we choose to pretend that we need all of that."_

I paused, the sudden narrative tone of the book throwing me off-guard. I shuddered, unnerved for some reason.

_Maybe I'm getting in a little too deep with this monster stuff,_ I mused to myself as I pushed the book away for a second.

I laughed to myself after that thought. _Too deep? Too deep was when I got bitten that night. That was the turning point of my life. Reading this book won't put me any further in than I already am. I'm already drowning in the supernatural._

With that in mind, I picked up the book and continued where I left off. The book went on to explain that it was a narrative excerpt from a popular vampire author, but that he felt it grasped several important factors of a vampire. Foremost, their previous humanity. He goes on to explain that there are very few monster myths of any sort that start with a beast. Most monsters begin as humans.

There's some speculation over whether this is because all humans feel as if a monster, or primal beast, lives within them and was then put into story and myth to express this feeling.

The doorbell rang and I reluctantly sat the book down on my bed, pushing myself off the bed with an exhale and heading for the door.

I wrench it open and am greeted with a soaking wet, blue-haired class member.

I really should learn his name.

Oh, and it's raining.

"Can I come in?" he said.

I stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before moving out of his way without a word.

He glared at me as if I'd annoyed him some way. "Is that a yes?" he asked impatiently, the rain still hitting him hard and sharp.

I blinked in surprise. "Uh, yeah, I mean, yes, come in."

He sighed in relief and stepped over the threshold.

He looked to me in a mildly abashed manner. "I'm sorry to intrude like this, I won't stay long. My car broke down, I just need a phone so I can call a friend to come pick me up."

"How did you know where I live?" I said, and trying and failing not to stare at him.

_God, white shirts really didn't leave much to the imagination when you're soaked._

He looked confused. "I didn't, I mean, this just happened to be the nearest dorm where someone would answer the door. I tried the ones on the left but they either weren't home or weren't taking visitors. Again I'm very sorry. Could I borrow your house phone?"

I subconsciously licked my lips and swallowed. He had such a nice chest. _I could never get that fit, _I thought. Well maybe. But I really liked eating ice-cream too much to build muscle like that. Toned and lean, sure, that I could do. But body-builder wasn't in my future.

He cleared his throat and I jumped.

"What?"

He smiled. "Your phone. Could I please borrow it?"

I felt embarrassed for some reason. "Yeah, sure," I said. I went in the kitchen and got it for him, shivering when his hand brushed mine.

"Your fingers are gonna freeze off. If you wanted you could uh, dry off, I mean - I'll go get you a towel." I don't know when I had ever fumbled through my words so much. I didn't wait for a response before I went and got him a towel from the bathroom. When I came out he was holding the phone to his ear but he nodded his thanks and started using it to dry off his face and hair.

I went back to my ogling. It never really got boring.

After a few minutes of examining his wet, nicely dressed, muscular body without reservation I looked down at my attire.

Well, okay, you walk in on a guy on a lazy Tuesday and he's not gonna be in a snazzy suit and tie. So whatever if my sweatpants had some cheese puff stains on them.

His face contorted in anger for a moment and he started whispering sort of into the phone. Angry whispering. I crept off back to my room and shut the door to give him some privacy.

_The hell was that, Ichigo? What the fuck was even fucking wrong with me._

Step one to really failing at life: let a really hot, really rained on guy in the house and of course the first thing you do is eye-rape him head to toe and ignore everything he says. Step two is give him a phone so he can call a ride instead of inviting him to dry off or help see what's wrong with his car or anything like that. Step three, mumble and stutter like an idiot before finally getting him a towel. Then run away and hide in your room.

_Man, if my mom could see me now, she'd be turning in her grave my manners are so disgusting._

I waited until the muted voice in the other room comes to a stop before coming out, poking my head around the corner inquisitively.

He looked pissed.

"Everything okay?" I said.

He shook his head. "I'm really sorry to intrude," he started, "my friend can't pick me up until tomorrow so I'll be staying the night in a hotel. Could you give me directions to the nearest one?"

I opened my mouth and then shut it again, contemplating. "Um," I said intelligently. "You could stay.. here?" I'm not sure why that came out as a question. "On the couch I mean. If you wanted. You don't have to."

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Ah, that's all right," he replied, shaking his head. "Really I would feel terrible. Thank you for letting me borrow your phone-"

"No really it's no trouble," I insisted. I scratched the back of my head nervously. "And then you know, maybe in the morning if it isn't raining anymore I can help you check out your car. I mean my old man used to have an obsession so I know a thing or two. Might be able to get it running."

He paused, seemingly contemplating. "That would be.. very generous of you, thank you," he said, looking confused.

"Yeah and uh what's your name again?"

Smooth, Ichigo, smooth. It was going so well until your mouth functioned without your brain again.

To my surprise, he just smiled.

"Grimmjow."

* * *

**Reviews? Thoughts? Suggestions? PLEASE review. It takes absolutely nothing for you to type "doing good" but it means the world to me.**

_I'm enjoying this. Why do the chapters feel so short? They're all almost 2,000 words now. Yay for daily updates!_


	5. EverythingIsAGoodIdeaWhenYou'reDrunk

**not a real new chapter, this accidentally got deleted, re-post. sorry.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE - **_Everything Is a Good Idea When You're Drunk_

* * *

To be honest I still don't remember where it went from there.

Awkward silence, probably, me showing him the living room because that's what I consider a tour of the place, and then offering him a beer.

Either way, we somehow wound up on the couch chatting, me drinking which was stupid because I am beyond a lightweight, and him finding my drunk self probably amusing enough that I should be embarrassed about it.

"So where've you been the past week? Been skipping every psych class." If it's possible, I'm more blunt when I'm drunk than I am to begin with.

He shrugged one shoulder, looking off to the side. "Been busy," he said non-committally and took a sip of his beer. I think it was my third or fifth but he might still be on his first. Slow drinker, I guessed. I drank when I was nervous and he made me hell nervous. So I still blame him.

"Busy with what?"

He looked over at me and smiled. "Personal life problems."

I nodded. "Oh," I said. "That bites."

He laughed as if something I had said was outrageously funny. I don't remember saying anything stupid out loud so I just sort of stared at him bleakly until he stopped.

"So where's your roommate?" he asked curiously after stifling his amusement

I shrugged one shoulder. "Out fucking with his boyfriend, probably."

He arched both eyebrows like something had surprised him then nodded, his expression turning neutral pretty fast.

"What?" I said.

"Hm?"

"Your face. You seemed surprised. Did you not know he was gay?" I stared him down, hoping to see some sort of reaction.

He shook his head. "No, I mean, I at least assumed. Not to be rude but he's not the most subtle. I had actually assumed that you.." He trailed off.

I stared at him, not comprehending. "That I?"

He shook his head, "Nothing," he said too damn mysteriously.

I took another swig of my beer and tried to process what he said again, trying to make sense of it.

It clicked.

"EWW!" I yelled slapping the leather arm rest of the couch and shooting him a look of horror. "Me and Shin just no never no." I might have slurred the words a bit but I think he got the message. He laughed again.

"Sorry for even assuming it," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "You 'pologize too much," I said.

He furrowed his eyebrows at me. "What?"

"You," I pointed at him, "apologize, too much."

He shook his head. "You speak Japanese," he noted.

"What?" I looked at him in confusion now.

He started laughing again. _Damn him, why did he laugh so much. No one's allowed to be that fucking hot when they laugh and laugh all the time._

"You didn't say it in English the first time," he explained.

"Oh." I had nothing to say to that.

I watched the way his chest moved when he breathed for a few minutes.

It was nice.

_What had we been talking about? Being gay? Yeah I think that was it._

"Are you," I paused to fight off a hiccup, "gay?"

He laughed a little again, like something I'd said was funny. I huffed, glaring and scowling at him and tried to take a drink of my beer only to find it empty.

He coughed, trying to stifle his laughter now. "Ah, bi, actually," he answered. "No, not gay, however."

I didn't respond, just glared at him some more. He had set his beer down on the arm rest next to him so I crawled over and leaned over him to grab it before returning to my side of the couch.

He smiled. "You stole my beer," he pointed out.

I shrugged. "You don't deserve it," I snapped.

There were a few moments of silence and I turned on the TV, starting my regular channel surfing.

He smiled. "What is it you're looking for?" he asked.

I gave him a one shoulder shrug. "Nothing. 'M channel-surfing. 'S good for the finger muscles."

He grinned. "You're interesting, you know that?"

I nodded.

He shook his head and for a few moments we enjoyed peaceful channel surfing together.

I was cold. He looked warm. Hot.

I scooted closer to him.

There wasn't really much warmth to be had.

I glared at him. "Are you dying of hypothermia?" I grabbed his arm, and a shiver ran up my arm and down my spine. He was like ice.

I glared at him some more. How dare he freeze when I needed to sit next to him to be warm. "You are. Do you want a blanket? I can turn up the heat."

He looked uncomfortable. "Ichigo, really, it's no worry, I'm not even cold," he said.

I realized we were a lot closer than we'd started out. And his breath smelled like mints.

I hummed under my breath but didn't move my hand off his arm. He kept eye contact with me for a few moments and didn't shift away. He didn't make any expression though, either.

"You're drunk," he said.

"I am," I replied.

And like every drunk person who'd been abstinent for nearly 2 years against their will, I did the only thing that seemed logical. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

It might have been tentative, if I'd been sober, but then again it probably wouldn't have happened at all if I was sober. So as it was, I just sort of threw myself into his lap and attempted to pry his mouth open.

He really _was_ cold. Like ice. His lips weren't as soft as I'd expected, either.

Nor were they quite as responsive as I'd imagined. I pulled back, furrowing my eyebrows at him.

He didn't seem to mind that I was in his lap any more than he minded that I stole his beer. He looked a little amused, a little surprised, and a whole lot of neutral.

_This really, really pissed me off. _My face flushed with anger and my heartbeat sort of took off as my drunk brain gradually acknowledged I'd been rejected. Sort of.

I must have made some sort of face, or maybe I was just really bad at reading expressions because somehow I ended up underneath him. His lips were against my throat and even if he was freezing cold it felt good.

Shit, _really_ good.

His breath was kind of warm, the only warmth from him I'd noticed.

Heat coiled in my stomach as he drifted his lips down my jaw line and pressed them to my pulse point. He inhaled, a shiver rocked down my spine and I arched into the soft touch, biting my tongue to hold back a moan.

He made a strange, low, guttural sound and pulled back just a bit, hovering overtop of me. I looked up into his eyes and my jaw loosened just a tad.

His pupils had nearly blacked out the normal blue of his eyes. It sent a weird chill down my spine. I opened my mouth to probably comment stupidly but he took me off guard by abruptly pulling me upright with him and setting me in his lap.

I blinked, and when I opened my eyes his own were back to their normal blue. He pushed me off of his lap and next to him, sitting back with a short exhale and averting eye contact.

I frowned, reaching out a hand towards him. To do what? I'm not entirely sure.

Before my hand could decide what exactly it was gonna do - hit him for being a weirdo or play with his hair because it was soft, the front door flung open from behind us.

"Ichigo, I'm- oh."

Shinji's very unwelcome voice came from the front door area. I peered over the back of the couch to see him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the slightly rumpled blue hair next to me.

Grimmjow turned around too, lifting up one hand in greeting.

Shinji smirked. "I just came in to say that I'm... um... staying at someone else's for the night! Bye Ichigo! You two have fun!" He raced out the door and slammed it closed behind him.

Silence prevailed.

"Why-how-I.." I stuttered. I flushed when he looked at me with one eyebrow raised and fumbled around for my beer that I'd stolen from him. I stared at the beer for a few seconds, swishing around the liquid inside.

"How did you know he was-?"

Grimmjow shrugged, still not looking directly at me I could tell from the corner of my eye. "I heard footsteps. You were a little out of it, you'd have heard it too."

"Oh." I said. But drunk or not, I didn't entirely believe him. I'd lived here long enough to know you can't hear anyone walking up to the front door through that thing. It's like the great wall of china.

Some more silence.

He sighed.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

I turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

He shook his head. "I shouldn't have.."

I scoffed. "If you apologize for what I think you're about to apologize for I will smash this beer bottle over your head," I threatened. My horny drunk stage was fading and my angry drunk stage was arriving, I guess.

He pursed his lips. "It's late," he said.

"It's only one," I said.

He nodded. "And that's late."

I scowled. "Stop trying to get rid of me. You could at least be subtle about it."

He looked at me with something akin to pity and I grasped the bottle in my hands tighter, my knuckles turning white.

I couldn't take this anymore. I rolled my eyes and thrust the beer back into his hands.

"You're right, it is late, good night."

He clenched his jaw just as I started to turn away. I heard him exhale a little shortly just before I closed my bedroom door behind me.

* * *

Next morning I woke up and was instantly bombarded with a killer headache and sharp, equally painful memories of last night.

Rolling over, I groaned into my pillow.

_I should never drink a week before the full moon._ The wolf starts waking up at this point and I turn beyond irrational.

I'd probably killed any chance of a real relationship between us now. And he'd probably left early this morning, if not later that night.

_Way to go, Ichigo, way to go._

I forced myself out of bed, my head pounding with every step and I peered hesitantly around the corner and into the living room.

He was just waking up, it looked like. Stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

Damn it he was so cute.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it._

Why the fuck does the wolf ruin everything.

Why can't it let me have anything I want?

Anything, anyone that makes me remotely happy is killed by that thing.

"Morning," I croaked to him. My voice was hoarse. He turned to face me.

He smiled a bit. This shocked me and I think my jaw slipped open for about half a second.

I'm sure he didn't notice.

He seemed to repress laughter before waving a bit, "Morning," he said.

Okay, so maybe he did notice.

Fuck him.

...

Fucker.

"I-I'm sorry," I mumbled and stuttered. I scowled hard at myself. What was I, a pussy? I cleared my throat.

_Ow my head._

"I'm sorry for last night," I said more clearly.

He shook his head. "It's fi-"

I sighed. "No, it's not um, sometimes I get like not myself when I drink? I don't know what any of that was and I'd like to make it up to you. Do you want to go look at your car? Is there anything else I could do?" I shifted my weight to my other foot, head still pulsing in agony.

He paused, looking at me for a long moment. "I would like help with the car," he said with a thoughtful pause, "but I think if you really wanted to make it up to me, you could come over to my place tomorrow and help me cram study for the psych midterm."

Okay, so this time my jaw dropped for maybe a little longer than half a second. Two seconds, tops.

"I-I-I uh yeah? Yeah! Yes. Okay. Are you sure? I have notes I mean yeah I'll bring them."

He laughed, and reaching for his phone asked for my number, said he'd text me his address and directions.

I told him, still a little confused. What the hell was wrong with this guy? I molested him and then threatened to hit him with a bottle of beer after getting piss ass drunk last night and he was inviting me over to his house. I'd also momentarily drunkenly hallucinated that he had demon eyes. I guess he didn't know that part though.

I shivered at the memory.

Maybe this is why my wolf acted up. Maybe he was trying to protect me from crazy people.

Grimmjow smiled, and putting on his shoes nodded to the front door. I noted that I hadn't offered him any fresh or dry clothes so now his were wrinkled, ruined and still slightly damp.

Damn it and I let him go to sleep on the couch with no blanket or pillow or anything.

I was a fucking ass, it was official.

He'd folded the towel, too, set it neatly on top of the hamper by the bathroom door.

I sighed.

"My car? Help me with it? I do agree that was part of our forgiveness agreement," he reminded me, nodding to the door again.

I blinked several times. "Oh, yeah," I said, and I walked to the door and put on my shoes.

He opened the door for me.

I scoffed, shaking my head.

Yeah, okay, he was definitely sick in the head somehow.

* * *

**Reviews? Thoughts? Suggestions? Thanks for the reviews, story visits, follows and favorites guys! You're awesome!**

Longer chapter yay! Poor Ichigo is so socially retarded, drunk or not. Shh, don't tell him I said that.

God dang it. I got this out late because I had a 3 hour physical therapy session the other day and it was exhausting. Sorry I ruined my daily update streak, guys. D:

Well gee this chapter was awkward and choppy. Still I wanted to get it out & it's nice and long. Plus we've got more Grimm & Ichi time promised. :D

Sorry guys! Next one will be better. Forgive me. It's this physical therapy, it killed my brain. xD


	6. You're Invited

**CHAPTER SIX **- _You're Invited_

* * *

After helping him fix up his car - he ended up doing most of the work if I'm honest, machines kind of hate me - we agreed upon a sort of study-buddy thing.

So, here I was.

I knocked on the intimidatingly large door to the massive, white-stone house. Shit, how could one person live here all by themselves?

Then again, I never really asked if he lived alone. Or if he was single, in hindsight. I could have molested someone's husband.

Feeling guilty because of this hypothetical situation, my face burned. I looked to the right, then to the left, shifting my weight anxiously as I waited for the door to be answered.

Just as I reached my knuckles up for one last hesitant knock, the door swung open to reveal a disheveled looking Grimmjow.

He was wearing a black suit and plain tie. His eyes looked tired, though his face was as immaculately perfect as ever, like a sculptor had made him from the finest human materials imaginable.

I cleared my throat, waving my psychology notes in my left hand.

"Oh, right," he said uncharacteristically slowly. "That, yes. Ichigo."

I paused. "If today's a bad day..." I started slowly.

"No, no," he said with exasperation. "Not at all, really do come in. I'm just exhausted, long day you'll understand," he said slowly. I stepped in the offered door as he moved out of the way. He shut it quietly behind me.

The house was intricately designed in every way, it made my head spin. From the fountain to the walls to the bookcases.

God, so many bookcases. And I'd thought I was a bit of a bookworm.

"You've done well for yourself," I observed without thinking.

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"Is it just you?" I asked finally.

He seemed to deflate a little. "It used to be my parents'," he said with a tone that suggest finality.

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be, you've done nothing wrong. How about we go to the kitchen. Have you eaten lunch yet?"

I shook my head following after him, observing everything I could as we went. "No, but really you don't need to worry about it," I said absentmindedly.

He nodded, seeming grateful. He sunk into one of the bar stools at a high granite island, gesturing to the one across from him for me.

"If this isn't a good time I could really always come another day," I said awkwardly. I plunked down on to the seat and pushed some of my papers towards him hesitantly.

He laughed, an empty sound. "It's a good of time as ever," he said. "Besides, I'd like you to stay. I've not had much company today, just work. Please, make yourself at home, I'll make myself some coffee."

He turned, preparing a cup. The warm smell of espresso beans filled the air.

The evening in itself was not as eventful as Shinji seemed to have wanted it to be. We really did talk about psychology. Eventually we trailed from what we were supposed to be discussing, instead talking about the Flynn Effect and eventually Paul Ekman.

I admitted to having objectionable lie-detection skills, despite my watching and re-watching of the Lie to Me show.

He laughed and so did I. We resolved into some more awkward silence.

"Ever read Harry Potter?" I said.

"Yeah," he said.

"Haroun and the Sea of Stories," I tried again.

"Mhm, good book."

"Yeah."

"Yep."

I glared at him. I was bad enough at this whole, "social interaction thing", without him making it ten times worse with his one-word answers.

"Did you bring the textbook?" he asked idly, seeming oblivious to my irritation.

I nodded, and set down my bag on top of the island. I dumped out its content, and out on top spilled my mythology book.

His eyes sparkled with interest. "What's that?" he said, reaching for it.

"Nothing," I said quickly, ripping it from his grasp and wiggling it high in the air in triumph, forgetting he wasn't Shinji and he wasn't about to hop up and down and reach for it.

He stood lazily, plucked it from my grasp and sat back down with a half-smirk.

I scowled. "It's just a book on-"

"-The supernatural, yes. I've read quite a few, but not this one."

I blinked. "Yeah?" I said.

He nodded, flicking open the book and his eyes scanning the pages with a look of hunger.

"How about," he said slowly, without looking up, "instead of studying, I show you my abhorrently nerdy collection of mythology and supernatural text in a dark corner of my library, and you let me borrow this for the evening?" He looked up finally, his blue eyes glimmering with some sort of hunger.

It sent a shiver down my spine. Warmth pooled in my stomach. "Um-yes-sure," I said/stuttered. I was excited about the books - it was hard to find a good collection - but at the same time, that expression he had was downright tempting.

We spent the rest of the - admittedly lame, not that I'd tell Shinji that - evening reading in said-dark-corner of his library. Occasionally one of us would look up, mutter something aloud on accident (that was me, I admit it) or ask the other if they needed something (that was him, probably because I stared a lot).

_Maybe he's an adonis,_ I speculated. I mean if werewolves can exist, gods can too, right?

"It's getting late," Grimmjow finally said, flicking the book closed and handing it back to me. "Feel free to borrow any of the ones you took an interest to in here, I've read them all quite a few times. Just make sure to return them, some of them are rather tricky to get your hands on."

I stood, gathering an armful of books with a bunch of nods. "Thanks for letting me come over," I said sort of awkwardly as we began our walk back to the kitchen, me stopping to pick up a dropped book every few minutes.

"No, thanks for coming, it was a pleasure," he said.

He helped me put my things in my bag away and clapped me on the shoulder in what I assume was some sort of manly affection or something. The girl equivalent of a hug good-bye? I wouldn't really know, Shinji's sort of a mangirl, and my Dad used to attack me as a greeting.

My chest clenched. _Dad_.

"Ichigo?"

I jumped, startled out of my daydream. "Yes?"

"I'm invited to a barbeque this week in which you are supposed to bring a... date, of sorts. Would you like to go?"

I deadpanned. "Like a date?" I said redundantly.

_Smooth, very smooth. One could say the smoothest of the smooth.  
_

A smirk curled up the left side of his mouth. "Sure, or just as friends," he offered casually.

"No-I mean-yes, that would be a good thing, a date. Yes?" I said, ignoring the strain in my own voice.

He laughed, this time a real laugh. It was warm. "Good, I'll pick you up. It's earlier in the evening on Thursday."

My bones chilled.

_Thursday, fuck.. fuck.. fuck.._

_The full moon._

"Yeah, sounds good."

* * *

**Hey dearies! I'm putting this story on hiatus, I just don't have my inspiration and don't want you guys to be checking every day. If you want alerts just follow me! I'll be updating still, but it'll have long stops in between and I can't promise anything about length or content.  
**

**I have other commitments right now, I'm sorry! But I promise to write as the inspiration strikes me.**

**Sorry it's short. Hopefully update soon! Ciao!**

**Reviews are candy.**


	7. You Know What I Mean?

**CHAPTER SEVEN **- _Fucking Fuck Fuckity Fuck - You Know What I Mean?_

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **A large chunk of informational text is borrowed from etymonline, or the Online Etymology Dictionary.

* * *

_Shit._

"Fuck."

I paced, then I kicked the door, then I groaned, then I cursed, then I paced some more.

_You know that disease where your mouth does this thing, where it ignores all of your mind's warning and says whatever the hell it was going to say in the first place?_

_Yeah, so, if there's any medication for that, I seriously need it._

What kind of werewolves say 'yes' to some sort of meeting on the evening before a full moon? Stupid ones or ones that are dead because they were so stupid, that's the kind.

"God-_dammit_."

Shinji hesitantly poked his head in my bedroom at last.

"The sex was that bad?"

I clenched my jaw. Whirling in a circle and baring my teeth, an animalistic snarl tearing from my lips.

_In my defense, the full moon was just two days away. The wolf was teetering near the surface, chomping at the bit._

Shinji's eyes popped slightly and he retreated from my bedroom. I imagine he was slightly - or completely - wasted. Usually it was times like this that Shinji was doing that thing that best friends do. Where they try to cheer you up seriously, fail like idiots, then socially flail around like drowned penguins until you find yourself laughing.

You know what the problem is? He's a sucky best friend that's the problem.

The anger simmering, or perhaps the wolf simply falling unconscious once more, I plopped on to my bed with sudden exhaustion. Pulling my bag towards me without lifting my face from its face-planted spot on my bed, I fumbled around inside it, feeling for the cover of the book I wanted.

When I finally pulled it out I sat up, looking down at the cover.

**Werewulf**

I flipped a couple pages, ignoring the technical bits.

_The Anglo-Saxons, like many old European peoples, seemed to have a double perception of wolves. On the one hand, wolves were feared and hated. Wolves had been driven from farmlands for centuries. In **"Deor's Lament"** the evil king Eormanric has wylfenne geðohtas ("wolfish" - perhaps "she-wolfish" - "thoughts"). The enemy Danes in **"The Battle of Maldon"** are waelwulfas ("slaughter-wolfs"). And Wulfstan names the devil a werewulf. _

_ On the other hand, as the name Wulfstan shows, the word Wulf is one of the commonest compounds in Anglo-Saxon names, appearing also in Beowulf (lit. "bee-wolf," a kenning for "bear"), Cynewulf, Ealdwulf and Ethelwulf. _

_ Surnames like Lowell, Lovel, and Lovett are versions of diminutives of "wolf" in Old French or Anglo-Norman, either from nicknames "wolf cub," or meaning "son of Wolf." They came to England with the Normans. Richard Luvel (Ricardus lupellus in a c.1118 charter from Sussex) was descended from William, earl of Yvery, who was called Lupellus to distinguish him from his father, Robert, who had acquired the nickname Lupus because of his violent temper. The Italian equivalent, Lupino, was the name of a theatrical family who settled in England by 1642. _

_ [Wulf by itself, however, was late and uncommon as a personal name in O.E. Redin (M. Redin, "Studies on Uncompounded Personal Names in Old English," Uppsala, 1919) doubts if any of the examples are really native and not from Viking. The modern frequency of the surname in the U.S. is due to immigrants from Germany.] _

_ A similar ambivalence seems to have characterized the attitude toward Elves, who were regarded by the ancient Germanic peoples as a race of powerful supernatural beings. On the one hand, there are metrical charms against curses and injuries thought to be caused by the malevolent work of Elves. On the other hand, Ælf ranks with wulf among the most popular component in Anglo-Saxon names, many of which survive as modern given names and surnames: Ælfræd "Elf-counsel" (Alfred), Ælfwine "Elf-friend" (Alvin), Ælfric "Elf-ruler" (Eldridge), also women's names such as Ælfflæd "Elf-beauty." _

_ It's possible that these and other given names had become traditional and were bestowed without a thought to their etymologies. Modern English-speaking people have and give names simply because they like the sound of them or because they are the names of relatives or close friends. But the play on the name of king Æðelræd II, in his epithet of Unræd, seems to argue against this, at least in the case of the Anglo-Saxons. His subjects must have known his name means "good-counsel" before they could convert it to "no-counsel." _

_ The wolf, it seems, earned esteem for ferocity and courage. From ancient times people cross-bred their dogs with wolves. The Louvre in Paris is said to be so named because its builder, Philip Augustus, intended it as a wolf kennel- _

My eyes ached. I pushed the book quietly aside.

_And Wulfstan names the devil a werewulf._

The book starts with the etymology, of course. Most books do. The etymology has some importance in understanding how the name morphs throughout the ages and languages and how its meaning comes to exist in the modern day. Then a book can lead into the myths, after you have a firm understanding of the times and worlds that it existed in, how it was used and treated.

But honestly, sometimes the reading got painful. I can't tell you why, maybe it's the various insults thrown about towards them. Not intentional surely, as most people don't even believe, but still, ever-present. But then, it's not really an insult when it's the truth, is it?

I heard giggling from the living room. Of course, he was drunk so he invited his boyfriend over.

Typical Shinji.

With a grunt I threw myself off the bed. I fumbled through my drawers, pulled on the first hoodie I found.

Heading over to the window, I unlocked it and pushed it up, climbing out and thankful-as-ever that I was on the bottom floor. I dropped to the dewy, cool ground in my bare feet.

I tromped through the small bit of lawn and proceeded to maneuver my way through the New York nightlife and into the park.

I threw myself down on the grass beneath a tree, exhaling deeply.

I looked up with just my eyes, then tilted my head slightly.

The nearly full moon glimmered ominously overhead, taunting me.

I had this feeling that in years to come, there wouldn't be a sight that I could learn to hate much more than that.

I turned my gaze to the tree trunks. A squirrel sat frozen - probably hoping he was invisible - just to my right. His eyes were wide and round while he stared at me. He sniffed the air, slowly.

I extended a hand and he bolted like his tail was on fire. I felt a stab of guilt.

Idly, I told myself that squirrels ran away from all humans. But in the back of my mind, I was reminded of the adopt-a-puppy day at Petco.

All the puppies had whined and ran or rolled with submission and avoided eye contact as soon as I approached. This seemed to weird everyone in the pet store out - the whole '_animals have a sixth sense about people_' thing - so I left pretty quickly.

Stray cats hissed and swatted at me. Fish swam away like the water was starting to boil. Everything but the humans seemed to acknowledge what I was, and cowered in only natural fear.

The humans noticed it too, I think. Just more subconsciously. Kids hated me, that was for sure. Or at least thought I was weird as shit. They'd stare, eyes wide, cower behind their parents legs.

Stare some more.

I told myself it was about my hair, but you know, when I leaned down to pick something up for them and they started crying, screaming, begging for their mothers - it got a little unnerving.

The parents apologized, always the same line '_I don't know what's gotten into him or her_' and '_Really she or he is usually so social!_' and blah blah.

Some adults were more aware. When the moon got closer, I could almost smell the underlying fear. Maybe that was my attitude around then, though. Maybe it wasn't _so_ obvious.

At least, I liked to think that.

It was a good thing though, the fear. If people never feared me, were never aware, I could hurt them. Not on purpose of course, but the wolf had a handle on my memories - I'm pretty sure. I have a handle on his, at least. If I ever wanted to access them - which I don't - they wait, patiently, at the forefront of my mind.

I'm even conscious while it happens. Sometimes I sleep, or try to. I like to sleep while the wolf is in control. I don't like to watch. I imagine it's a bit like how he feels every other day of the month. Stuck watching a beast ruin your life and do everything wrong, stuck in the back of the mind, pacing, watching, listening, sleeping.

Anywho, if the wolf knew who had angered me, he tended to hunt. He was a hunter, of course. A hunter who was mixed with the vengeful mind of a human. Of course, if I were in control, I might _punch_ someone I was mad at. But the wolf, if it were mad at someone, it would rip their throats out and eat their muscles for a light snack.

So yeah, friendship?

Not happening.

I ran my fingers through my hair. It was probably better to cancel. I couldn't make that barbeque, and I couldn't try to force this relationship.

It wasn't fair to him, after all. I didn't want to hurt the guy.

Just as I stood, beginning the walk back home, my wolf seemed to give a frantic, desperate howl in the middle of my chest. My pupils dilated, my breath quickened.

A sweet, cloying scent like Novocaine filled the air. I gagged slightly, pinching my eyes. I whirled a bit on my heel, searching for the attacker I simply knew was there.

Abnormally rock hard, cool arms pinned my own behind me. I snarled, kicking out with my legs and whirling my head in the direction behind me.

A bag, oh how typical, fell over my head, blocking my vision and clouding my sense of smell. Before I knew it, knots were being tied around my ankles and wrists as I was held down with inhuman strength.

"Calm down, puppy," an unfamiliar voice snapped, laced with rage however quiet. It sent a shiver of rage and terror down my spine.

_Puppy?_

"This one's feisty, wouldn't you agree?" the same voice inquired.

"Pups are always feisty. It's a trait borne of fear." The voice that responded was older, deeper, but still as foreign as ever.

I writhed in placed, more unintelligible snarls forcing their way through my teeth. I wasn't sure when the wolf had commandeered my vocal chords, but at the moment I didn't mind.

_Who were these people? What did they want?_

_Did they... _know_?_

Something sharp probed my arm, I gave a loud yelp and flinched away but was held in place.

My struggling suddenly got weaker, a fog falling over me and the wolf. We both gave some final struggles, but darkness came over my mind faster than I could ever recall.

* * *

**xoxo look how fast I updated. Reviews for me? Yaay. Love you guys.**

**I show this love with cliffhangers and what-the-fuck moments.****  
**


	8. When the Lights Fade Out

**CHAPTER EIGHT **- _When the Lights Fade Out  
_

* * *

_I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you. But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide._ **-DEMONS, IMAGINE DRAGONS**

**I DIDN'T CHECK THIS FOR SPELLING OR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. My apologies if there are any! You see any, PM/review it!**

* * *

I woke up, the ground beneath me was dry, hard and cold. A foul odor floated through the confined space. I cracked my eyes open just a smidgen, light filtered through and I flinched.

My whole body ached, my eyes burned against the light. I forced them open. Dust particles filtered through the top of the darkness that surrounded me, dancing in an almost taunting fashion.

So dark, so dark. I sucked in a bit of foul-tasting air.

_Where am I?_

I licked my lips and tasted my own blood. I flinched at the sting, slowly I pulled myself into the sitting position. Every joint groaned in protest, every muscle practically ripped with movement.

I opened my eyes wider now, trying to observe my surroundings. There was no light source to be found however other than the sort of vent above my head. I reached a hand out and touched a cool, stone wall.

I shivered.

A box.

_A cage._

I could feel the pull of the full moon even before it rose in the sky. It was tonight, but what time of day was it now?

I tried to stand, but my head smacked with a resounding crack against the top of the cage. I cursed, crumpling back on the ground with a low whimper.

"Wouldn't try that," a voice murmured boredly from outside the cage.

I perked up, touching my head and feeling a light trickle of blood from where I'd split it.

"Who are you?" I said with as much anger as I could muster. Fear crept into my voice, I cursed myself internally. What were you supposed to do in a hostage/kidnap situation? Be quiet? Talk? Act strong, act unaffected? I'd never learned about this sort of thing.

"Name doesn't matter. I'm like you," the voice said hollowly. It sounded dead, bored. It - he?

"Like me?" I said. "You don't seem to be in a cage. Where am I?"

"Dog fight," the voice responded simply, sounding bored as ever.

I blinked. My lips suddenly became very dry.

I swallowed hard.

"What?" I croaked.

"Dog fight," he reiterated.

"I, don't fight dogs," I finally said, confused beyond measure. The voice outside seemed to give a deep sigh.

"Of course you don't."

I laughed, a little mania creeping into my voice. "What time is it?" I asked between the vent.

"Nearing sunset."

My eyes flew wide.

"You need to get me out of here," I said quickly.

"No can do, sorry pup."

_Pup._

_Dog fight._

_I'm like you._

_Nearing sunset._

I'm a little dense sometimes, but as this set in my mind and swished around a bit, it all clicked.

"Where am I?" I whispered again.

Disbelief had filled my every emotional pore. I had no room for anything else as I collapsed back against the cool stone wall of my cage.

Oh, so properly I'd labeled it. A cage.

A _dog_ cage.

"The old abandoned cinema down that shady area a couple miles off the park. The feeding grounds."

"Feeding grounds for what?" I snapped. This anger wasn't mine, I knew the wolf was taking mental control temporarily. I was too shocked, confused, disoriented to handle it right now.

"Calm down, pup. For vamps, of course. It's a bit like a winery. Pretty girls, only they're _the_ drinks. Entertainment, 'cept instead of polo pony matches, wolf fights."

"What the fuck is a _vamp_?" I snarled.

He chuckled. "Vampire, blood-drinkers, immortals. You done your research like most pups? You've heard the stories. Little less like Edward Cullen though, little more like Dracula."

I snarled unintelligibly, and the wolf had the brilliant idea of smashing my entire body against the wall of the cage.

There was a ruffle of papers outside, and a deep exhalation. "Calm, or you'll turn early and hurt yourself before the fight," he murmured.

"Calm? _Calm?_" I practically howled through the vent. I clacked my teeth together, eyes flicking through the dark corners of the cage. Just stone walls. Solid stone.

I looked toward the weakest point.

The vent, of course.

I dove towards it, grabbing it in between the slots with my hands. Immediately, they burned hotter than any fire. My hands locked on as if the muscles were paralyzed.

The pain was so mind-consuming I couldn't scream or move. I felt all the blood drain from my face as I fought to get my mouth to beg for help.

Burning, burning, burning. Spreading from my hands, my skin must be lit on fire. My vision was drowned with red. My ears were filled with a nasty ringing, my nerves were numb but at the same time I had never felt so much, no transformation even had topped this amount of pure agony.

_Kill me, please, someone. Kill me, kill me, kill me. Anything is better than this - everything. Death is better. Please be merciful, please._

Gentle, calloused hands removed my rigid fingers from the bars, pushing them back into the cage with me.

The burning faded with the sound of rushing blood going through my ears.

"-pure silver," I heard as the ringing started to fade, "not many things made of pure silver these days. Cheaper to add other metals, see. But the vamps, well they're careful, aren't they?"

"I-you-" I croaked, my voice cracking and failing me. I looked down at my hands.

They were swollen beyond measure, blistering and red as flames. They throbbed with every beat of my heart and stung miserably, my eyes prickled.

"Starrk," he said.

I was quiet for a moment, too weak and dizzy to respond. After a few moments I rose into the sitting position again.

I glanced at the vent, and felt a swell of hatred blossom in my chest.

I inched backward, back pressed against the stone wall, glaring at it, my hands laid tenderly in my lap.

"Starrk?" I finally managed quietly.

There was no answer.

"That's your name?" I said.

"Yes," he responded shortly.

"And you're a, a, w-"

"Wolf, yes."

"A wolf?" I'd certainly felt fingers, not big claws or padded paws, push my hands off of the bars.

"A werewolf?" he offered. "Wolf sounds less fairytale, wouldn't you agree?"

I nodded mutely, belatedly realizing he couldn't see me.

"Why aren't you in a cage?" I asked curiously.

I could almost hear his smile. "Well, I've been here a while. I'm caged by other means than stone walls."

I didn't ask what he meant, and we resolved into quiet once again.

"Do they keep you here forever?" I asked finally.

"Certainly not," he said mildly.

"How long have you been here?"

"Seven years." There was something in his tone when he said that which varied from the usual boredom. Something softer.

"How much longer are they keeping you?"

"Until I die," he responded simply.

"That sounds like forever," I said, a sick feeling in my stomach.

"No. You will not be here forever. Each full moon they keep the victor from the previous moon, and find a new wolf in the area, and have them fight it out. The loser, obviously enough, dies. And the victor stays here, alive, every moon until he loses."

"Seven years?" I asked quietly after absorbing this information.

"Over eighty fights," he responded calmly.

I swallowed thickly. "So how old are you?" I managed.

"Thirty-seven."

"When were you turned?" I asked again, curious about this man who I would apparently be fighting to the death later.

"Twenty-nine. And you, pup?"

"Ichigo," I said.

"Hm?"

"My name is Ichigo," I repeated.

"Oh, I know," he said.

"I was turned when I was twenty."

"Just a year, then?" he said with mild surprise.

I grunted in response.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice suddenly much nearer.

"Why don't you run?" I asked, peering through the silver vents.

He recoiled from the cage, his eschewed form disappearing from view completely.

"I can't," he said. I could almost picture the accompanying shrug.

"Why not? What could they possibly hold you by? You could walk out right now-"

"My daughter," he said quietly.

My mouth formed a small 'o' before I retreated into the dark silence of my cage once again. He didn't seem to mind.

* * *

I'm not sure when I fell asleep but I was awoke by a sharp burning in my side.

"Up_, UP_. Move you dumb _mutt_," a voice spat.

I flinched, and scooted quickly away from the burn I now knew as silver. I crawled headfirst into a wall since I moved without opening my eyes and heard a hiss of impatience.

More scooting, I tumbled into a colder, thinner cage. I opened my eyes. This cage was different. It connected to the stone one, however this one was the stereotypical prison cage, with large, open slots on every side of me.

For transport?

I looked around. I was in an old, cellar-like room. Starrk - or the man I imagined was Starrk - stood rigid, tall and lanky off to one side. He did not make eye contact with any one object, seemingly unseeing. I stared at him, inhaling deeply.

I could smell the difference on him, from normal humans. I wonder - did I smell different to him? To vampires? I must, how else would they know what I was?

I looked to my tormentor. He held a silver fire-prod. His hair was jet-black and long, held in place by odd, silver-looking hair clip-like things. He was dressed rather formally, a black suit with white undershirt. He was reasonably tall, with high-set, sculpted, aristocratic features.

I took a whiff. He didn't smell much different than any other human I'd come across. That concerned me.

Why were we identifiable but they weren't?

"Because wolves don't need anonymity to hunt. Vampires do," Starrk answered my unspoken question.

I glanced over at him. I was pretty sure I had said that silently.

"It's only a natural curiosity for a wolf. We start relying on our noses more than we realize once we're turned."

The black-haired man ignored us completely, and idly glanced to the door of the cellar. A man with short, silky-looking silver-hair and a wide, face-eating grin waltzed in.

They exchanged some words, too fast for me to entirely make out. From what I understood, the black-haired man was named Byakuya. The silver-haired man, Gin. Gin seemed to be the superior in the interaction, but Byakuya was proud. Gin wanted to discuss bets, Byakuya was asking about a man named Aizen.

My stomach curled.

Bets. Bets on which one of us _eats the other alive._

I looked over to Starrk, and his permanently worn-out expression, and thought of his daughter.

I began to wretch, expelling the contents of my stomach into the cage forcefully. How could I live - how could I want to live, knowing what this man was fighting for? Could I resolve to lose?

No, certainly not. The wolf would give it all he had. But, certainly, Starrk was strong? He had to be. Seven years, undefeated.

But as I looked into the man's tired, dead expression, I had my doubts.

Byakuya was shooting the cage and my vomit a disgusted face. I looked to the end of the cage. It was leaned against a door. I imagine the door, when opened, led to an arena of sorts. I could hear noises through the wall. Quiet murmuring, laughter. I could feel no heat and hear no heartbeats like I can in a human establishment however.

It felt like I was observing a party of ghosts through the wall. Cold, dead, but walking, interacting with the world in a most unnatural way.

They were walking corpses.

I shuddered.

As I did, I felt the first of the muscle contractions and felt my ligaments tighten, my bones lock rigidly into place.

There was movement around me. Everyone left the cellar, including Starrk. The door attached to my new cage was flung open.

I didn't move. There was no moon, I couldn't see or feel its glow against me like normal, but my blood boiled with recognition as it pulled on my insides.

I screamed, a blood-curdling, maddened scream. My blistered hands screeched in agony the most.

_It hurt._ God it hurt more than any transformation so far. More than the first. Tonight was a night of pain that I'd never fathomed about until now.

My organs twisted and screamed within me. My screams lowered, deepened, and then switched entirely to a melodic howl as my joints popped out of place and my bones cracked. My muscles ripped and tore and grew at a phenomenal rate. My skull cracked - oh that was always one of the worst bits - and began to reshape.

I was lost in the agony of the moment and the sound of echoing howls from within that open door. I - he - had never heard howls that weren't his own on a night like this.

When the pain subsided, and the whimpering stopped, he stepped forward gingerly on his injured front paws. He exited the cage and entered into a large, dome-like, dirt arena. All around were humans, humans, prey, _prey._

And yet, they didn't smell like prey. No, no, not prey. He couldn't feel their heat, their terror. Couldn't smell their tasty flesh. These humans smelled rotten, sweet, sick. Dead, dead humans. But walking humans?

Why were dead humans walking?

I waited in the back of his mind. I observed. Tonight, I don't think I could sleep away in the subconscious. I watched it all through his eyes. Varying shades of grey but strong scents.

_A familiar scent. But familiar from where? From the human's mind, probably._

He flicked his ears and his eyes landed on a familiar head of blue hair. Blue was one of the few colors he could see.

From the subconscious, I felt a sickening drop of pain, anger, disbelief, shock and disgust.

_Grimmjow?_

Before he could react to the familiar creature, which had its eyes pinned right on him, talking quickly and discreetly into the ear of a brown-haired man, he heard the snap of jaws and a low snarl to his right.

The wolf whirled, eyes alighting upon the strangest sight.

A wolf, prepared to lunge.

* * *

**sorry for delay lovelies. can I make up for it with love? xxx**

**you're all so sweet. keep up the support, you guys drive me to keep on goin' on.**

**I DIDN'T CHECK THIS FOR SPELLING OR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. My apologies if there are any! You see any, PM/review it!**

**Was just excited to get it out! ;D**


	9. Blood's Run Stale

**CHAPTER NINE **- _Blood's Run Stale  
_

* * *

_When you feel my heat, look into my eyes, it's where my demons hide - it's where my demons hide._ **-DEMONS, IMAGINE DRAGONS**

* * *

_Teeth tearing fur and flesh. Blood, a frenzied rush of blood, staining my muzzle, his muzzle._

_Blood, blood, blood._

Rage, so much rage.

Finally, something,_ somewhere_ to vent all of this frustration, all this _pain,_ anger, confusion.

I saw nothing, I heard nothing. I was an animal, lost in my own animalistic rage. All humane trace of mind was gone.

I ripped, I tore, I felt the blood ooze between my claws, I howled and barked with joy. Ripping, tearing. I felt my own wounds, oh yes, I felt my limbs protesting, I felt the dizziness from the loss of blood - but most of all I felt inexplicable joy. _It's just pain, after all. We can ignore pain._

Around me, activity bubbled. Bets were called, cries of excitement, quiet laughter, snide remarks.

Suddenly, my opponent, the frenzy I was feeding off of, dissipated.

I felt it slowly, saw it in a daze. His growls fell short, his sharp teeth penetrating my shoulder lost their grip, his head fell with the rest of his body, dropping to the dirt floor with a thud.

I panted frantically, tongue lolling out the side of my mouth.

The werewolf's eyes were glazed over, glassy. His entire body was rigid with death, and his heart was still.

I pushed the wolf with my nose, not expecting this. He was my playmate, not my enemy.

I pushed him with my nose again, licking once at his cheek.

Had I played too rough? Why was my friend not waking up?

There were irritated calls from the audience. The violence had stopped, where was their entertainment?

I looked slowly at the body of the wolf.

I heard a sudden choked sobbing sound. Soft, quiet. And I heard an accompanying fluttering heartbeat, for the first time in this dead room.

I pinpointed the heartbeat. There stood a little girl. Green hair, purple eyes. She looked to be about six, maybe seven. She was crying, a brown-haired man who had his hair greased back and wore a creepy white suit was holding her back with one arm, looking amused.

I heard the girl's cries fill the air, and my need for violence satiated for the night, I turned away from the potential prey.

I sat down, leaned my head back, arched my spine and gave a low, deep, long, mourning howl. As I finished the note, and a red drop of blood fell for the thousandth time from my head, I felt a fuzzy blackness swarm around my vision.

I collapsed, darkness taking me.

* * *

I woke from my dreamless state, and I stretched my once again human limbs tenderly. I cracked open my eyes just the slightest bit.

I was in an unfamiliar room, the smells however were very familiar. Dust, paper, tea, books, woods, honey. Sweet, rich, thick scents.

I tried to sit up.

My entire body felt dead.

A cool hand touched my forehead, and another pressed a cup to my lips. The hand on my forehead moved, and pushed a pill into my right hand.

"Take it, I think you're ready to go off the morphine, but you need some sort of pain medication."

I started, confused by the creature that had appeared out of thin air.

Grimmjow looked tired. He was not meeting my gaze, he waited patiently for me to take the pill.

I dropped it idly. I don't think I could have reached it to my lips either way.

"What are you," I asked monotonously.

He swallowed, shaking his head. "I think you know. Please Ichigo, take the tablet," he said more sternly. Still without looking directly at me, he picked up the pill, and put it in my palm.

I gripped it as tight I could, pulled my shoulder back to its full extent - which at this point was not very much - and chucked it right at his forehead.

He blinked. I tried sitting up again from the white bed I was laid in but couldn't. My legs screamed in agony at the effort.

"Your left leg is broken. Typically lycanthropy heals wounds, I think the silver damage on your hands was what it focused its energy on healing this time, so your leg was left uncared for. I've set it but I've not been able to get a cast for it yet. Please, be careful."

I licked my dry lips and for the first time, looked down at my palms. He was right, they were nearly flawless, they didn't look like they'd been burnt at all. My mind wheeled a bit. So many questions, I didn't know where to begin.

I glared at him, feeling a burning hatred in my chest.

"I am a vampire. I am three-hundred and ninety-seven years old. You have been unconscious for three days, I feared you might not wake. Shinji has been told that we are on vacation together, he is ecstatic for you and sends his best wishes."

"Why am I here?" I snapped after absorbing this information. "So you can take me back to the lair? For the next full moon? How long have you known? And what are you going to tell Shinji - I drowned in the Bahamas?"

He finally met my gaze, his icy blue irises seeming to penetrate my very soul. I did not recoil. I met his gaze head on, eyes blazing.

"I've known within the first thirty seconds of meeting you. The scent is distinct, it's rather... different, though usually more unappealing," he began quietly, "and you will not be returning to the.. _lair_. Aizen, the owner, owes me a few favors. I cashed in on one of them. You'll never see that place again, I promise you." As he finished, his tone darkened and his face hardened into a look of pure rage.

"Who'd you bet on?" I said scathingly.

He glared at me now. "I don't take part in those barbaric fights," he snapped.

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, good, we can cross _animal cruelty_ off of the list of reasons you're going to hell then, right?"

His lip curled. "Would you take the damn ibuprofen?" he asked shortly. He handed a new tablet to me, the one I had thrown at him having rolled under the bed, and stood from where he sat on the bedside.

I bared my teeth at him. "No," I said. "And as soon as I can walk, I'm leaving."

He scoffed. "Yes well, on your own, good luck with that. Your leg is in a splint. I have crutches in the other room. You can have them if you take the tablet."

I spat in his general direction, unimaginable rage swelling inside me. I hated how damnably helpless I was. I hated his pity, I hated him, I hated myself, I hated the wolf, I hated this room, I hated this bed, I hated his care, I hated my broken leg, I hated _everything_.

* * *

I spent the rest of the day not eating or sleeping. I was mentally restless and physically paralyzed. I tried moving a couple times. My first try I was very determined, and threw myself off the bed. My leg quickly unset and I was taken under by the agony.

When I woke, the pain was unimaginable, but bearable compared to the other night.

He had to set the leg again. He gave me more morphine, which I came to hate. It made the whole world fuzzy and distant. When I recovered from the dosage, I asked him not to try it again. I preferred tolerating the pain.

He agreed, upon my agreement to take the ibuprofen.

He offered me food a couple times. I made snide remarks about who he was having for dinner, Mary from next door, or Donna down the street.

He left after that, the door shaking in its frame as he slammed it behind himself. He'd left the food by the bed though, on a table I could reach. It was warm pasta, steam rolling off it in tasty-smelling waves. I salivated, staring at it for a while, but resisted.

He came back in a final time, disappointed I didn't touch the pasta.

I told him it would have been appetizing with more garlic. He had taken to ignoring me. He checked my temperature for some reason, and checked on a large gash on my side.

There was a brief spat about this. I was not comfortable with him lifting my shirt and fiddling with my wounds. Of course, he was technically a certified doctor, and he'd apparently had to change my clothes and dress my wounds already, so it wasn't like he was seeing anything new.

But I didn't want his help, even if the wound itched and burned and made my whole body feel like it was cooking on a low setting.

He threatened to knock me out with some more morphine, I dared him, he went to get the needle and I summoned him back, begrudgingly allowing him to check on the wound.

It was infected, apparently. He had to leave to get some medicine to work with it. He gave me more morphine while he cleaned up my wound. He moved on to some more, and gently cleaned some on my face. I talked to him in a gibberish-fashion while under the morphine, but he just smiled and answered me quietly when he did manage to understand me.

Eventually, at around 4 in the morning, I ate a couple bites of the cold pasta, instantly felt nauseated, vomited into the trashbin by the bed, and fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

My dreams that night had varied. Lots of blue, too much blue. The wolf was oddly quiet, more quiet than I could ever remember him being.

I think he was mourning.

I vaguely dreamt of Starrk, just for a few moments. I think that was the wolf's doing. He dreamt of a pack, of discovery, curiosity, friendship. The scene shifted. We were humans, talking over that desk in that strange room, just talking.

We both wanted to get better, to understand the science of our disease. Could we? Could we reverse whatever the full moon was igniting, where it was in our body, that triggered this? Surely not, surely the transformation was purely magical.

But if it _wasn't.._

The dreams changed again. The Bahamas. So much blue, vibrant colors everywhere. This dream was foggy, I only remembered the distinct colors.

Swimming, splashing, laughing. Blue, blue, greens, reds, more blues. Blue of the sky, blue of the water, blue of the drinks, blue.

Some about my family. About Karin and Dad. About Mom. My stomach lurched in pain. _Mom._

I fiddled with the blanket a bit, feeling ill.

Grimmjow came in about a hour after that. He asked if he could tend to the infection now, I nodded mutely.

He got to work with only a flashing look of surprise.

"Is something wrong?" he asked as he worked on it. I didn't feel like watching, it was rather gross, so I kept my head turned the other way.

"No."

"Are you sure?" he tried again. "You seem off, you were murmuring in your sleep when I came in earlier."

I stiffened. "Then you know what's wrong, if you were listening to me talk."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I had a family," he started hesitantly.

I didn't snap at him, so he slowly continued.

"Before I was turned. I had a wife and a son. I was in the war."

I looked down at him briefly, trying to imagine him at an old-timey war. The thought made me snicker a little. One side of his mouth quirked up a bit, like he had guessed what I was thinking.

The humor of the moment dissipated when I remembered what he was. "Did you kill them?" I asked, maybe too bluntly.

He didn't take kindly to my insensitivity. "Well Ichigo, let's see, when I was turned into a monster I was quickly taught what I was and still in a human enough state of mind to avoid my family. And what of yours? Surely they're dead, seeing as how you turn into a mindless monster."

"Fuck you," I hissed.

He ignored me. We were both silent for a long while after that, my jaw was set and my face burned.

He finished with my infected wound, he re-dressed it and stood up.

I didn't look at him. I kept my gaze fixedly on the palm of my hand.

"No," he said finally. "No, I didn't. I left, they were told I died in battle, and I had to watch as another man courted and married my wife, as my son grew up without a father, and then as he grew up with someone else as his father. And then I continued to watch, as they grew older, and as they - eventually, as all humans do - died."

I looked at him slowly. "The night we were attacked, I had convinced Mom to go out stargazing for her birthday with me, we used to do it all the time when I was younger," I said quietly. "She was killed by it, it got a scratch on me but by then I guess someone, the authorities, showed up and somehow scared it off? I don't know, I fell unconscious." Though I was sure he'd seen it by now, I sat up gently, and lifted just the back of my shirt, revealing four long, thick claw scars across my spine.

He opened up his mouth to say something, but I held up a hand, and sat back slowly. "I didn't know what I was the first full moon. I was told we'd been attacked by an animal. My close friend took me out on a camping trip almost exactly a month after the attack because my wound was finally healing, and I loved camping. When my transformation started, he tried to get me help, and refused to leave my side."

Grimmjow's expression was blank. I didn't finish the story, I assumed he got the idea.

"I'm sorry Ichigo," he said softly.

"Have you ever killed someone?" I asked quietly, staring down at the callouses on my hands intently.

There was a beat of silence.

"Thousands, probably."

My eyes flew wide and I looked up in a mixture of shock and horror.

He smiled, some mixture of shame and smugness on his features. "Let's just say the vampire who _raised_ me didn't have the strongest of morals. Not that most vampires do."

I nodded mutely.

We didn't really talk for the rest of the day.

* * *

**almost to the 10th chapter mark yaaaay!  
**

**as always thanks for my loyal reviewers you guys are just kisses and hugs and butterflies and rainbow piss.**

**soo tired. this has been half-written for a while but I decided to post. uni started last week and ahh things have been hectic yay weekends!**


End file.
